The True King Of Camelot

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was on his way to retrieve something that recently came into his possession, yet it was already his most prized item. His new sword. Ever since pulling it out he had been unable to stop holding it, or admiring it. The craftsmanship on it, the way it was built seemed to perfectly suit his weight, style of combat, and hold . . . everything about this sword was magnificent. It had been lost for how many generations of kings and yet it remained flawless. It wasn't the slightest bit dull nor was it worn. The way it cut through the air in almost a musical fashion. Yes. Arthur was obsessed with his new weapon. Even thinking about it now, he missed holding it and just staring at it . . . though he'd only been parted from Excalibur for a few hours. And with good reason to. For he had been busy proposing to the woman he loved. Now that was something else that he needed to tell Merlin. No one knew about his decision to marry Guinevère -- to propose to her once. And for good reason.

He hadn't wanted to make a large spectacle of it, considering what happened last time. Which was why when she said that she wished it to be private, he completely understood. It would be the best way to approach this situation, after the humiliation they all suffered from the last time. So therefore, it would be a private affair with limited guests. Merlin being one of the few invited. Which was why he needed to speak to him as soon as possible. Not only to retrieve his sword, but also to discuss with him his and Guinevère's wedding plans, as well as tell him to hurry and clean his room so that it could be livable again. Camelot was in the midst of reparations, but he knew that after having suffered under Morgana's wrath as 'queen' -- twice now -- that it could not have come at a better time to place a proper queen on the throne. One that the people would love for she had a genuine love for the people. What had happened before . . . Arthur never wished to speak of again. This was the time for a new start. A new beginning. A new era.

Arthur approached the armory, having designated Merlin with the VERY important job of tending to his sword, cleaning it, polishing it, sharpening it -- though it didn't seem to need either of those things. Still. He wanted it to be well cared for. As he entered he watched Merlin for a moment, his eyes going straight to Excalibur to make sure Merlin hadn't done anything stupid. Despite the sword's strength, he wouldn't put it past the man to somehow find a way to break it, or chip it, or . . . something else that would make Arthur want to smack him on the head with the hilt of his new weapon. "Hows my sword coming along?" He asked as he walked closer to Merlin to inspect the weapon. He would paranoid every moment it was out of his sight, which was why he would keep it close to him at all times. Even sleeping with it at night if that was what it took!


_{Setting: Starts in the armory, will probably move around
Time of Day: Late Afternoon
Timeline: Shortly after The Sword In The Stone II
Tag: Merlin
Notes: Yes, Arthur has a horrible obsession with Excalibur.}

[em]

Once again Merlin found himself being put in charge of Arthur's sword. The King would have him guard it all day and night if he had his way. Merlin had noticed that his friend too great pride and care with his newest accessory, and so he should! It was a sword forged from the dragons breath that could slay even the toughest of beasts and men.

Merlin could hear the approachoing footsteps and out of the corner of his eye, could see Arthur's expression. No he hadn't broken the sword or anything so he needn't have worried. Merlin looked up and then held the sword up, waving it about in the air to show Arthur that it was still in one piece. "Still in tact sire!" he grinned. "Hows my sword coming along?" Merlin carried on polishing the blade. "Im surprised you even let me touch it" he replied, "You haven't allowed it to leave your side since..." he trailed off, "Anyway! here you go" He held up the sword for Arthur to take and inspect.

Merlin watched and grinned up at the King. "and you thought that my story telling was a load of rubbish". Arthur had scoffed at it at first - but Merlin had proved him wrong, and in his opinion, he was a pretty darn good storyteller. "I told you that you were the true King of Camelot". He sighed and stood up, "Buuuuut of course you didn't listen to me at first - as usual- but then the look on your face when you saw that sword!" he smirked, "I knew you could do it...I wouldn't have taken you there if I didn't have any faith in a prat like you".

[Arthur Pendragon]

When Merlin handed Arthur his sword, he eagerly took it, not even looking at his friend as his eyes wandered over the blade of perfection. It was flawless! Never had he seen a more impressive weapon, and he felt that familiar power of it being back in the palm of his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. It had not been long since he had given it to Merlin to clean, but long enough to have missed the way it felt in his grasp. He ran his fingers along the blade, on the flattened part rather than the sharp edge -- for he knew it would cut him in a second. The blade was that sharp. Magnificent! Truly a sword of impeccable beauty. "I'm surprised I let you tend to it as well," he admitted. Knowing that the only reason he had done so was because he did not have time to do it himself. Because he had to go see Guinevère. "Don't worry Merlin, never again. For I plan to polish and sharpen this sword from now on." Arthur never polished nor tended to any of his own weapons. But this sword was an exception, to many things.

"And you thought that my story telling was a load of rubbish." Arthur did not break his gaze from lingering over the blade, though he did fight the urge to roll his eyes at Merlin's comment. Though, he knew that it had been Merlin's story and the discovery of the sword that had re-instilled Arthur's faith in himself. He had been fully intending to step down as king; to tell the people to find another king. A man more worthy of sitting on the throne. But this sword and all that it had symbolized, drastically changed everything. For he had performed a miracle by pulling it out of the stone . . . as if it was foretold; as if it was his destiny. "I told you that you were the true King of Camelot." Words that went along with his very thoughts. He was the true king, as it had been told in legend. "Buuuuut of course you didn't listen to me at first - as usual- but then the look on your face when you saw that sword!" The look of his face had been . . . well, Arthur didn't know what the look on his face had been. He didn't even know how to describe the emotions he felt when laying witness to the sword.

"I knew you could do it...I wouldn't have taken you there if I didn't have any faith in a prat like you." Arthur knew that if anyone had faith in him, it was Merlin. He truly appreciated his friend's unwavering faith. His attempt to restore Arthur's belief in himself. It truly made Merlin his brother. Not just a servant, not even just a friend . . . but a brother. Of course, being overly emotional and sentimental was not quite the nature of their relationship. Unless the circumstances were grim, but in this case, they were the exact opposite which was why Arthur decided to return his mocking. "Merlin," he began to say. "Do you really want to be calling me a prat, while I have this sword in my hand?" He asked, in a warning tone. Of course, he wasn't actually going to attack Merlin with it. "Perhaps I should use you as a test subject, to see if you actually sharpened it properly," he added. Kidding of course . . . sort of. To some extent.